Need to Get Something Off My Chest

...and no, I'm not referring to the milk jugs that disappeared (sadly) from my chest.  But it IS pregnancy related. Isn't everything?  

It's probably just a mix of being postpartum, inadequate sleep and too much time to think about things.  But I am kind-of pissed that I'm no longer pregnant.  I LOVE having Blake here - don't get me wrong about that - but I wasn't finished being pregnant when she arrived.  Makes complete sense, right?  The girl who complained nonstop about being pregnant is now saying that she wasn't ready to end her pregnancy a few weeks earlier than anticipated? WTF?

I guess I just feel like I needed to do more things.  I wanted to take a final belly shot.  I wanted to have her room completely ready.  I had tons of drawers to clean out and wanted to straighten out our closet.  I wanted to be emotionally and mentally ready for the last child that I would have growing inside of me.  Maybe you are never really ready to have your last baby, but I at least wanted the opportunity to try.  

This is something that has been on my mind since August 19th.  And it hasn't gone away so I am pretty sure it's a legitimate feeling.  That's not saying it's normal... but it's legitimate.  

And another thing, has anyone found a way to slow down the clock?  I want to push the PAUSE button and enjoy Dennis, Connor and Blake more than I am able to do in a normal 24 hour period.  HELLO, I need more time in a day.  I know that I'm the first one to ever ask for that.  

I didn't realize it when it was happening, but I have tried my best to manipulate time and make my maternity leave go as slow as possible.  I didn't want to be overly busy because, as we all know,  "time flies when you are having fun".  So, in a backwards type of way, I thought that if I wasn't having fun, at least time would go more slowly.  Talk about being smart and beating the clock at it's own game.  Or maybe not being smart at all.  Time still managed to escape my grasp.  I was unsuccessful at slowing it down.

Maybe I had it backwards, afterall.  Since time was moving too quickly when I was trying not to have fun, maybe it would move less quickly when I caved in and participated in something that I wanted to do.  

So, I gave in to some fun options as of late, and just as I feared, the days and minutes were never long enough.  I went to the beach with some girlfriends a few weeks ago.  I flew home with Blake and Kelly to visit my family.  My mom came into town last week.  I even got my hair cut and highlighted (gasp).

While I was home in Missouri, I went to Shiloh with Megan.  We've been friends forever (literally) and have been going to bars together for many years... years before we were supposed to be allowed in there.  I looked around and felt old.  Very old.  

When we were headed home (by 10pm, as Megan promised me), Ben said something that made me laugh really hard.  

I told him to stop making me laugh because I was going to pee in my pants.  Not because he was that funny (sorry Ben) but because that's what happens after you have two kids.  You pee in your pants.

And maybe that's my learning.  Or the story of my life lately.  Two kids have a way of not only changing but redefining everything.  EVERY-thing. And you have less control over things.  Things like bladder control and needing more time in each day. 

Happy 2 Months

October 17, 2011

Dear Blake,

This month has seen so many changes!  Not only are you showing us your big gummy grin on a more regular basis, but you are also sharing some incredibly sweet cooing noises.  As of a week ago, your dad pointed out that you were complaining most - well, let's be serious here, all - of the time.  Now you are showing him up and saying nice things to us, too, which is very much appreciated. 

You are holding your neck up so well.  No signs of crawling or walking yet, but I have this feeling that you are going to do everything very early.  Once you see realize that your big brother gets around so quickly because of how he uses his legs, I think you'll start to use your lower appendages for more than kicking the person nearest you.  No rush on that, though.  We can stick with kicking for now.

Holding you in my arms and having you fall asleep on my chest are two of my favorite things.  I know that I won't get to hold you that way forever;   I cherish every moment that I can steal you away from your swing or bouncy seat if you appear to be drifting off to sleep.  Those are moments that I wish I could bottle up and store for another time.  Oh, I just love it.  (And I'm getting tears in my eyes thinking that I probably won't be able to do that with you for that much longer.)

You and I decided to say "phooey" on breastfeeding.  When I say, "you and I", I mean "you".  Seven weeks was a good run for us; you much prefer the speed and ease of the bottle as opposed to the work required for breastfeeding.  You are much happier with a mixed bottle of breast milk and formula.  And I learned very quickly... when Blake's happy, we're ALL happy.  So we're doing great right now.

Sleeping is a work in progress.  Your dad will give you the last bottle of the day around 10pm and then he whisks you off to your crib to sleep.  Around 3am, I hear a familiar sound coming from your room (AKA a yell) and we have our bottle-feeding rendezvous and you are back off to sleep until about six am.  So, we're getting there... we're just not at the finish line quite yet.  I'm confident that you'll get there soon enough, though.  At least that is what I keep telling your dad and myself.  Please don't prove me wrong. 

Tomorrow, October 18th, will be your first airplane flight.  Kelly ("AK") and I are taking you to Columbia to meet your great grandma Loesing, great aunts and uncles and to see your Nana and Papa.  I doubt that your Nana and Papa will be able to sleep tonight because they are so excited to see you.  They still like us, sort-of, but they LOVE seeing you and Connor at every opportunity they get. 

I love you, Blake.  You make every day so much more special than I knew it could be.  Thank you for being you. 

Love,

Mommy

Oh, and BTW - I realize that this is technically two days shy of your "2 month" birthday.  Being early is not something I do very often so we should enjoy it.  :)

A Berry Interesting Adventure

It seemed so simple.  Leave our house around 9AM, bottle feed Blake on the way, play around at the "cow farm" (Berry Patch Farms), grab some pumpkins, and then head back home by lunch time so we'd be there in time for our family nap. 

And, what happened today was none of that.  We finally departed the Martin residence around 9:30 with a crying 7 week old and excited little boy in the back seat.  We stopped to get gas at BP and coffee at the connected McDonald's.  Dennis went into the dual-purpose building and re-emerged what seemed like decades later.  It seemed like decades, anyway, because my gas pump wasn't working (it kept saying, "SEE CASHIER") when I tried to pay at the pump.  Blake was crying in what I'm sure was her loudest voice ever and Connor then joined in the fun and started crying saying, "My want cow farm, mama... my want cow farm!"

Blake's cries didn't sound like they were going to subside so I offered what seemed like the only obvious solution:  I would sit in the back of my very teeny-tiny company car (Fusion) in between the kids and feed Blake as she sat in her car seat.  Once I climbed in over Connor's lap and was situated between them I realized that I wasn't able to pull the door closed.  We must've looked ridiculous because a lady at a nearby pump asked if I wanted her to close the door for me. 

And this is all before we were officially on the way to the Pumpkin Farm. 

Connor kept asking me, "What dat, Mama?"  I would tell him it's a tree or a car or a fence and then he raised his voice and started talking really loud.  I asked him to please be quiet.  And then I said it. 

"Connor, do you want to go to the cow farm?"

"Yes, Mama."

"Then don't yell.  Cows don't like it when you yell.  And we won't go to the cow farm if you keep yelling."

"OK Mama."

Did I really just say that?  Cows don't like it when you yell? 

I looked up front to see if Dennis heard what I said and closed my mouth before the words came out.  Because he was jamming out to the 90's radio station and was dancing to Coolio.

Two things happened in that moment:  I realized we aren't that cool anymore, even though we think we are.  Dennis dancing in the front seat and I am using cows to get my son to use his inside voice.  Really???

Somehow, we made it there, all three of us sitting in the back with the best looking chauffeur that I've ever seen. 

Once at Berry Patch Farms, we saw goats, pigs, and a few chickens.  There was one cow, but it was really small.  We took some pictures, chased Connor around, had Connors face painted, and then re-loaded the crazy bus for our 45 minute drive home.  For some reason I thought it made sense to leave the Baby Bjorn in the car and just carry Blake instead.  So both Dennis and I had our arms full.  Too full to bring home any pumpkins. 

We drove 45 minutes and dealt with all of this drama so that we could get our pumpkins. 

But we didn't bring even one home.  Nada.  Zippo.  ZERO. 

So, I'm just throwing it out there that we're going to cheat this year.  We're going to a nearby church next week to buy our pumpkins. 

From Beer to Apple Juice

It feels like our house is never organized.  Toys and random items seem to be scattered about on a regular basis.  The only time that I feel like our house is truly clean is immediately following a visit from the cleaning ladies.  It's a wonderful feeling that goes away all too quickly.  But, I'm coming to grips with it.  And I'm accepting the fact that I love our crazy life and having a crazy house often goes hand-in-hand with that.  So, we're good for now.

And, yesterday was no exception.  There was no sign of the cleaning crew, so our house was in it's normal state of chaos.  And Connor was drinking some apple juice.  My laptop was sitting in one of it's normal spots, on the coffee table.  Right next to the iPad.  And yes, you can see where this story is going. 

My laptop apparently wasn't very thirsty or it just didn't like apple juice.  So it's out of commission.  Dead, deceased, kicked the bucket.  What a wuss - crapping out on me just because it didn't like apple juice.  WhatEV.  And apple juice is good for you (we buy the brands suggested by Dr. Oz to be at least as safe as the water we drink)!  Jeez, Louise, Mr. Computer.  Get a grip.

Five or six years ago I had a similar incident happen.  While using my laptop, I decided to enjoy an adult beverage and ended up - - and I'm embarrassed to now admit this - - crying as I heard the computer literally squeal and squawk to it's death as it gulped down some of my Bud Light.  I cried.  I think I may have even squealed and screamed as much as my laptop did.  It was pretty pathetic on both of our parts. 

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I realize that the obvious lesson here is that I need to put my computer out of harms way - that is clear.  And no beverages - adult or otherwise - within a 10 foot radius is another good recommendation. 

Life isn't the same as it was just a few years ago.  Apple juice, rather than beer, seems to be the most popular beverage at my house.  And this time, as my priorities in life have been upgraded, I didn't cry over spilled apple juice.  And I try not to cry when I spill some of Blake's breast milk that I worked so hard to pump...but that's a work in progress.  Baby steps.